


hands of time

by wistfulwatcher



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/F, Injury, Romance, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 01:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4000558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wistfulwatcher/pseuds/wistfulwatcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Dr. Griffin hesitates like she doesn’t want to say it. “There are still fragments in your back.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“So dig them out,” Raven says, gritting her teeth.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Removing them,” she continues, face pulled taut in graveness, “especially opening your back up again so soon after the first surgery, it could be fatal. This is a serious decision.”</i>
</p><p>
  <b>Modern AU where Raven is seriously injured and Abby is her trauma surgeon.</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	hands of time

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the DM Angst Day on tumblr. This is my first really angsty fic ever, so we'll see how it goes!

**Thursday.**

Every five minutes or so the TV crackles and freezes for a split second and it’s starting to drive her insane. Not that she’s paying much attention to the show anyway, but it’s not like she can do much of anything else in her hospital room.

Her back aches and every time she shifts even a bit she can feel the stitches pull across the dip of her spine, and so she stays as still as possible. Which is not exactly her forte.

She’s got the bed bent up to sit against and a pillow behind her neck and another beneath her knees and it wouldn’t be so terrible if she could keep busy somehow, do something useful.

Like fix the TV. Which she knows is a terrible idea—if she could even make her way over to it—but she is seriously going to lose it soon.

The echo of footsteps comes down the hall and when she rolls her head over to look for the noise drawing closer, she sees a familiar-ish face walk through the door. The doctor looks a bit run down, and she’s sliding a phone back into her pocket as she crosses the threshold into Raven’s room.

When she notices she has Raven’s attention she gives a tired smile and yeah, Raven remembers her. “Good morning, Ms. Reyes. How are you feeling?”

 _Like I had my back ripped open and sewn back together, doc,_ is on the tip of her tongue but instead she just blinks slow and breathes out, “Awesome.” The doctor smiles a bit more genuinely, and rests her hand on the foot of Raven’s bed, fingers curling over the rounded edge.

“You’ve just had surgery so I’ll let that sarcasm slide,” she smirks and it’s kind of charming. Then, more seriously: “Do you remember speaking with me when you first came in?”

She does. Mostly. She remembers bits and pieces right after the accident, snippets of sirens and barked orders broken up by searing pain and Wick telling her he’d meet her at the hospital and asking if he should call Finn and a jerky transfer onto a gurney.

And this woman kneeling down to look at her, stroking her hair once, twice, too gentle and too long considering the five inch rusted piece of metal wedged into her back. She remembers fragments of her explaining what would happen, and then the anesthesia mask being slipped over her mouth.

“A little,” she says, brows furrowing a bit as she tries to remember. “Dr. Griffin, right?” Dr. Griffin nods as she tries to pull herself up a little more, and when she starts to make a move to help Raven holds up a hand. “I’ve got it. You did my surgery?”

Dr. Griffin says softly, “I did,” and flexes her hand on the bed frame. “How much pain are you in?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Raven answers automatically and gives a terse smile. She’s afraid to ask, but she needs to. “So, doc, how’d it go?”

Her hand flexes on the bed again and she takes a small step forward and it’s tentative and stilted and Raven pushes her head back into the pillow. “That good, huh?”

“You’re stable right now, but your injury was serious. When the vent you were in collapsed, the force of the impact gave you a high energy fracture on your L3 and L4 vertebrae. You also had three herniated disks, and a torn ligament from where the shrapnel of the vent shaft penetrated your skin.”

Raven swallows hard. “Couldn’t have started with the good news?”

Dr. Griffin licks her lips and steps closer, rests her hand on the bed beside Raven’s hip. “That was good news, actually. The impact was low on your back, low enough that it cleared your spinal cord. If the vent had come down on you just a few inches higher you would be facing almost certain paralysis and loss of some organ function.” She takes a breath and Raven knows there’s something not being said. She clenches her jaw and exhales through her nose and tries not to push her doctor to just _say it._

“It cleared your spinal cord but not your nerves; the metal in your back was old and it separated on impact.” She hesitates like she doesn’t want to say it and then, “There are still fragments in your back.”

“Dig them out,” Raven says easily, eyes wide and vulnerable and she feels like she’s shaking but her body is still.

“It’s not that simple, Raven,” Dr. Griffin says, and Raven remembers, remembers the soft and sweet but serious voice, how she was so calm but so concerned when she arrived. “Right now those fragments are stationary, which is good. They could stay where they are for years without shifting. But if they drift toward the nerves, you could be paralyzed.”

“So _dig them out_ ,” she repeats, gritting her teeth.

“Removing them,” she continues, face pulled taut in graveness, “especially opening your back up again so soon after the first surgery, it could be fatal. This is a serious decision.”

“And I’m giving you a serious answer.” Raven holds her eyes for a moment before she breathes out and pushes her head back against her pillow. Her eyes are starting to sting and her back is throbbing and even with the sound off on the TV she can see it crackle at the five minute mark. “I’m not going to walk around with some ticking time bomb in my back. I want the surgery.”

Dr. Griffin watches her for a long moment, and then her brow furrows in something like concern. “Alright,” she says, and pulls her hand back from Raven’s bed, lets it rest at her side. “We’ll do the procedure. We’ll need to monitor you for a few more days before hand to make sure everything else is in order, and give your body a chance to recover. I’ll be back tomorrow to discuss this a bit more, and it’ll give you a chance to sleep on this, make sure this is what you want.”

“It’s what I want,” Raven insists, and Dr. Griffin nods.

“Well then, I suppose I better start making those arrangements. Do you need anything else?”

“I’m all set,” she says, and if she’s a bit dismissive she can’t find it in her to feel guilty. “Thanks, doc.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Raven,” Dr. Griffin reaches out her hand like she’s going to touch her, but drops it back to her side and turns to walk back out the door.

 

 

**Friday.**

“Do you have any questions?” Dr. Griffin asks from Raven’s side, and gestures to the computer open on the bed table in front of them. She’s given Raven a more in depth overview than the day before, and frankly, Raven is scared as hell.

“How long after the surgery will I know if the nerve is damaged?”

Dr. Griffin looks down at Raven, and rests her hand on the edge of the bent mattress beside her head. “You’ll be asleep for a few hours after the procedure, but as soon as you’re awake I can test your responses to see if there were any complications.”

“And if there are?”

She hesitates, and Raven knows that means there aren’t any steps after that. “We’ll worry about that if there’s reason to,” is how the doctor responds, though, and she gives Raven a gentle smile. “Do you have any other questions for me?”

Raven looks up at Dr. Griffin for a long moment. She does have questions, but she knows what she needs to, really. Knows that she needs to go through with this. Knows she can’t live without knowing, constantly aware that she could bend or move or twist wrong and she could lose feeling in her legs.

So instead she looks away from her, looks at the TV still crackling and asks, “Do you know your TV’s broken?” before turning back.

Dr. Griffin looks stunned for a moment, and then her eyes slide over to the screen, her lips twitch, and her eyes kind of _sparkle_. And she laughs, low and soft and Raven feels herself relax into the mattress for the first time in two days. “I can’t say that I did. I’ll mention it at the nurse’s station,” and she drops her hand from Raven’s bed.

She looks less tired than she did the day before, her clothes aren’t as wrinkled and her hair is falling in loose waves instead of falling out of a loose braid. “Do you still want to have the surgery?”

“Yes,” Raven says immediately.

The last traces of Dr. Griffin’s smile fade, and she nods slowly. “Alright. Have you spoken with your family at all about this?”

“No family to speak with.” And it’s true, mostly. She does still have Finn, in the awkward we-broke-up-but-you’re-all-I-have sense. And Sinclair had stopped by in the morning before work to check in and tell her to recover—easier said than done when he also mentioned Wick was taking over her assignments. But for all intents and purposes she’s alone.

Dr. Griffin hesitates a moment like she’s going to apologize, but Raven rounds her shoulders and sits up a bit higher—inwardly wincing as she pulls the delicate skin of her back—and she drops it.

“OK,” she says instead, and then glances at her watch for a moment. Her expression falls as she looks at the face and then holds her wrist to her ear, listening. Her eyes close and she looks pained for a moment, and it’s oddly personal.

“Watch broken?” she asks, and the answer is obvious but she can’t sit there in silence.

“It seems so.” Dr. Griffin drops her wrist back to her side and pulls her phone out of her lab coat pocket. “I was supposed to meet my daughter twenty minutes ago.” She puts the phone back in her pocket and gives Raven a tight smile. “If you think of any more questions, feel free to let one of the nurses know and I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Raven nods, and then adds, “Want me to take a look at that for you?”

Dr. Griffin looks down at the watch on her wrist and holds it up a bit. “No, that’s fine. Thank you, though.” She’s smiling sweetly but she still looks pained. And it kind of hurts to look at.

“C’mon doc, I’m going crazy here. It’ll give me something to do. Otherwise I’m going to end up dismantling the TV over there.” Dr. Griffin looks over to the TV corner and then back at her.

“You know how to repair a watch?” she asks, skeptically.

“Not exactly,” Raven smiles, and then grimaces when she shifts wrong on the bed. “But, uh, fixing things is kind of my thing. I’ll have it back together in no time.”

There’s quiet for a long, long moment, and Dr. Griffin still looks pained. Finally she slips it from her wrist and holds it out carefully, strokes her thumb over the face once, twice, and Raven realizes that the pained look is kind of haunted, a little vulnerable. It’s jarring, and Raven takes it from her slowly, unable to shake the sense that she just asked for more than she should have.

“Be c—” Dr. Griffin starts to say, but cuts herself off when Raven rests her fingers on her palm. Her skin is soft and strong, and Raven takes a moment before she pulls the watch out of her hand and holds it carefully in her lap.

“I’ll have it back to you soon,” Raven smiles wide, trying to fix whatever moment just happened.

“Alright. Thank you,” her voice is a bit raspier than before, heavier, and Raven swallows. “I’ll see you later.” She starts to turn and then waits, smiles easier, and adds, “Get some rest, Raven.”

She heads out of the room and Raven waits for a moment before looking back down at the watch. It’s nice, clearly expensive, so it would make sense that Dr. Griffin would be wary of a stranger—a sick stranger, no less—hanging on to it.

The face is nice, simple and elegant, and Raven runs her thumb over it the way Dr. Griffin had. When she flips it over, though, she sees something engraved on the back: _So you’ll always have the time for me. J._

It seems sweet, if a little corny, and Raven traces the cursive with her finger, before setting the item watch back down on her lap and grabbing her phone from the nightstand. The types out, **Bring me the smallest tool kit we have?** to Wick and leans back against the bed.

 

 

**Saturday.**

Apparently, fixing a watch is not like fixing a radiator or an engine or an air conditioner. Not only are the parts tiny, but they’re _really fucking_ tiny. The smallest tools they had at the garage were nowhere near small enough, so she ends up asking Finn to pick up a more specific tool kit to bring her.

With those she can get it open, and, hey, it’s a start. The biggest problem is that Dr. Griffin had gotten so uncomfortable about leaving it, had been so careful and guarded that Raven’s actually pretty afraid she’s going to mess it up. When it had just been a watch it hadn’t seemed like a big deal, but now she’s hesitant.

And so it’s sitting in the top drawer of her nightstand while she glares at that damn TV crackle.

“Good morning, Raven,” Dr. Griffin comes into her room, and she looks over a bit too fast, realizes how starved she must be for interaction. Slower, she mutes the TV and props herself up.

“Morning, Dr. Griffin,” and if she says her name a little stiffly it’s not on purpose. “What’s up?”

“I was across the hall with another patient and just wanted to check in on you. How are you feeling?”

 _Restless. Frustrated. Impotent. And I ache over every inch of my back._ “As well as can be expected, I guess.” Dr. Griffin narrows her eyes, and comes to stand at her side.

“How bad is the pain?” Raven shrugs but it turns into a grimace. “Have you taken painkillers recently?”

“As often as they bring ‘em,” she tries to joke, but it falls flat as Dr. Griffin starts to lean her forward and she hisses in pain.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs and it’s soft but she’s close to Raven’s face so she hears her clearly. Her hair—loose again, but not curled at all—brushes over Raven’s collarbone and the feeling is surprising, makes her shiver. (She bites her cheek when Dr. Griffin’s warm hand on her back makes her shiver, too.)

“You think you could get me set up with some IV level painkiller? After all this is a special stop, you must like me.” She’s facing away from the doctor but when she laughs Raven can feel small bursts of air hit her back.

“Am I that obvious?” and suddenly Raven’s face starts to heat a bit, and she clears her throat, grateful she doesn’t need to look at Dr. Griffin in this moment. “But I’m afraid you’re stuck with the pills for now.”

“Can’t blame a girl for trying.” Dr. Griffin laughs again, just a low chuckle, and Raven kind of wishes she could see her when she laughs like that.

“Is anything especially sensitive?” she asks and gently presses around her back. Raven makes noises in the negative, and shakes her head. “OK, everything seems the same, then, which is good. We’ll continue to plan for surgery on Friday, unless you’ve changed your mind.”

It’s Saturday, now, and the thought of waiting a full week makes her skin itch. She wants this done _now_. “I’m not changing my mind, doc, I want the surgery.”

Dr. Griffin pulls her gown back down and lets her lean back against the mattress again. When she steps back into Raven’s sightline, she licks her lips and gives her a half smile. “You can call me Abby, if you’d like. After all, I am using you for free watch repair.” Raven nods, and she asks, “By the way, were you able to fix it?”

“Not quite,” she says, and at Abby’s disheartened look she asks, “Do you want it back?”

Abby opens her mouth and then hesitates, takes in a sharp breath before saying, “No. No, that’s fine, you can keep working on it.” Raven nods and lets out a small sigh of relief, the watch sitting in a half a dozen pieces in her nightstand at this time. “I’m glad to see things are stable, Raven. Keep getting rest and be sure to let the nurses know if anything changes.”

“Will do, doc—Abby.” Abby smiles at the use of her name, and Raven feels her body relax slightly. “Thanks.”

* * *

It’s late. About midnight. She’s been tinkering with the watch on and off since Abby was by that morning and she feels like she has a basic understanding of what the problem is but her eyes are starting to hurt from the strain—she should have had Finn bring her a magnifying glass, too—and so she’s forced to call it a night.

The TV’s on but not holding her attention so she’s on her phone flicking idly through her apps and playing games that are equally as bad at keeping her focus. She’s got Angry Birds open and she flings a few before she hears footsteps in the hallway. They end near her door and she turns her head automatically to see what’s going on.

“Dr. Griffin?” she asks, not a little surprised at her presence so late at night. Abby hesitates in the doorway, and she’s mostly a silhouette from the bright hallway light behind her. She’s got her civvies on, jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, no lab coat. Her purse is tucked beneath her arm and her hair is pulled back from her face in the same kind of loose braid from the first day.

“You should be resting, Raven,” she whispers, and crosses the threshold to come stand at the end of Raven’s bed.

“All I do is rest,” Raven smiles, and rolls her eyes a bit. But Dr. Griffin being here so late is a big concerning, and she sobers to ask, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she says quickly, and when she edges toward Raven’s side Raven can see how tired she looks. Drained, really. But she smiles and it’s genuine and sweet and she says, “I’m just heading out and wanted to check in on you before I left.”

There’s something too hot and thick that catches in Raven’s chest at her words, at the way Abby seems to care so much about her patients. So she falls back on her usual and smiles tiredly herself, “Pretty sure there are nurses that do that every hour.”

She fights the twitch of her lips for a moment before she smiles. “I suppose they do.”

“Wow, you must really like me,” she jokes, and realizes the phone is still on in her hand. She turns the screen off and drops it to her lap, and Abby rests her hand on the mattress.

“Are you having trouble sleeping because of the pain?” she lets Raven’s comment go unanswered.

Shrugging, Raven says, “It’s fine,” and tries to ignore the throbbing emanating from her back.

“You can admit you’re in pain, Raven. I won’t think you’re weak.” She says it easy, teasing, but it hits a bit too close so Raven just nods. “Alright. Well, I hope you get some sleep, and I’ll see you later.”

“Night, Abby,” she says, and sucks in a breath when Abby smiles beautifully at her. She turns to go and Raven realizes how tiny she is dressed down like this, how fragile she seems this late at night.

“And of course I like you, Raven,” she adds, before murmuring _good night_ , and heading back out of her room.

 

 

**Sunday.**

Her back feels better today. Marginally, but she’ll take it. She figures it has quite a bit to do with the fact that she’s got something to work on, that she’s starting to figure out the watch and it’s keeping her mind off of the ache in her back every time she moves.

“...go off without even telling me where you are, Clarke.”

Raven turns her head toward the sound filtering into her room, and catches sight of Abby on the phone through the window. She’s got the phone pressed tight against her ear and her other hand is bent on her hip and even through the thick glass of the window Raven can tell she’s having a hard time controlling her reactions.

“No, it is _not_ alright. You may think—” she cuts herself off and turns, frustrated, and suddenly they’re making eye contact through the glass. Abby looks embarrassed and a little defeated, and she lowers her voice enough that Raven can’t hear the rest of what she’s saying.

Turning back to the watch on the table in front of her, she shifts uncomfortably on reflex, and automatically feels the twinge of pain up her back.

She tries to keep her attention focused in front of her, but continues to sneak peeks over to Abby still at the window.

“I’m sorry about that,” Abby says dismissively, and she flips a chunk of her hair away from her face and over her shoulder. “How’s everything today?”

“Better than you, sounds like,” she smirks, and looks over at Abby before pulling one of the gears away from the watch with a tweezer.

Abby winces a bit as she watches Raven with the watch, but gives her a tight smile. “My daughter and I haven’t been getting along very well, lately.”

Raven smiles sympathetically, and asks, “Teenager?”

She walks closer to Raven’s side and breathes out a laugh. “Terribly cliche, but yes. Please don’t tell me she’ll grow out of it, ‘just like you did.’”

“Not what I was thinking,” she shrugs, and it’s strange how she wants to tell Abby why, that she wants to share with her. They’re not friends, and even if they were it isn’t like she’s ever been one to spill her guts, anyway.

Abby sobers a little at Raven’s expression, and licks her lips. Pointing to the watch, she asks, “Do you think you can fix it?”

“I think so, yeah. It seems like the balance might be off, so I’ll strip it down and reassemble it.” Abby’s eyes follow her movements as she gestures to the pieces of the watch, and linger on the back, set face-up on the table near Abby. “Was this a gift?”

The question is dumb, she can tell it was a gift, but she doesn’t know how else to ask about it, about Abby. Isn’t sure why she cares so much. She’d like to chalk it up to boredom but there’s something compelling about those dark brown eyes and the way she looks so exhausted but still smiles so brightly. The way her touch is so gentle.

“It was, from my husband,” she murmurs, and when she reaches out to touch the back of the watch gently, Raven notices the ring on her left hand. It makes sense, Abby is a beautiful woman, and it’s dumb but there’s the smallest twinge of disappointment in her chest at the information. Not that she was planning on asking her doctor out or anything. Not that she’s developing a crush on her.

“Thank you for trying to fix it,” she says, and drops her hand back down to her side. When she looks back up at Raven there’s a sort of calm on her face, she’s back to the smile that seems to sit on her lips at all times, and Raven can’t help but smile back.

“Yeah, doc. Like I said, it keeps me busy.”

“As long as you’re—”

“Resting too, I heard.” Abby purses her lips at Raven’s dismissive tone, but says nothing. “Look, is there any way we could move this surgery up? I don’t know if I can stay sane until Friday, once I get this watch fixed up.” It’s part of the truth. The rest of it is the constant fear of not knowing if that damn metal is going to move, not knowing if she can stand or lean over or sneeze without it costing Raven her mobility.

“As long as the metal isn’t shifting, it’s best if we wait,” Abby says firmly, but she rests her hand on Raven’s, and curls her fingers over the side of her hand to squeeze. It’s enough for now.

“Alright. You know best, doc.”

 

 

**Monday.**

“Raven, would you just relax and take it easy?” Finn has been sitting with her for the past half an hour, and to be honest, he’s driving her crazy. As bored as she is cooped up in the hospital room, listening to Finn mother hen her while she’s trying to fix the watch and be _useful_ is grating on her fast.

“I think I’m almost done with it. Has Wick said how it’s going at the garage?” Finn isn’t a mechanic—he’s finishing up his philosophy degree at Jaha University this semester—but Wick hangs with both of them sometimes after work.

“They’ll manage without you, Raven,” Finn answers, and it’s not what she asked and not what she wants to hear, so she just continues to pick apart the watch. She’s pulled up youtube videos on her phone and she has a basic understanding of how to fix the problem, now.

A knock sounds on the open door and when she looks up Abby’s standing there with an easier smile than she’s seen in days. “Hey,” Raven says casually, and if her tone is oddly familiar for her doctor, Finn doesn’t say anything.

“Good morning, Raven.” She steps into the room and over to Raven’s side, and looks at Finn. “Hello, I’m Dr. Griffin, Raven’s surgeon.”

Finn stands up and shakes her hand. “Thanks for saving her, doc,” he says, and when he drops her hand he slides his into his back pockets. “So, Raven tells me she’s going to have surgery again.”

Abby looks over at Raven and she nods. “Yes, this Friday. And then hopefully she can be discharged a week or so after that.”

“But she doesn’t need this surgery, right?”

“ _Finn_ ,” Raven warns, “don’t.”

Abby looks between them a moment, before she holds up a hand. “It’s possible for Raven to heal without the surgery, but she’s a bright girl, and we’ve gone over the options.” Raven looks up at her and Abby’s trained on Finn. “Our goal now is to prepare her for the surgery to ensure that it’s completed successfully.” She’s shutting Finn down and moving them off of the topic and Raven is grateful. Because she’s gone through this with Finn already today—and twice on the phone—and she can’t do it again.

“I just think—”

“Finn,” Raven cuts him off this time. “I’ll talk to you later. When you bring me that gear,” she gestures to his coat pocket where he’d tucked away the broken part she needs him to replace.

He hesitates for a long moment, looks down at her, and god, sometimes it would be so easy to fall back in love with him. But they didn’t work for a reason, wouldn’t work romantically again and so it’s best that they are whatever they are now, instead.

“Fine. I’ll be by later,” he says, and presses a kiss to the top of her head before he nods to Abby and heads out of the room.

“Thanks,” Raven murmurs, and sets the screwdriver in her hand down on the table.

“Of course,” Abby smiles, and steps closer to Raven’s bed. She seems to relax with Finn gone. “He seems like a caring boyfriend,” she says, but there’s the smallest inflection at the end like a question.

“Ex-boyfriend,” she says quickly, and it’s stupid—for so many reasons—but she needs Abby to know. “And best friend.”

“It’s nice that you remained close,” she says easily.

“He’s all I have,” Raven says and it’s unexpected but such a reflex that she doesn’t even realize she said it at first. She wants to take it back, it’s too revealing and Abby is watching her closely.

“I’m glad you have him, then,” is all she says, though, and her fingers twitch like she wants to take Raven’s hand again. Raven kind of wants her to, too.

“I think I know how to fix the watch, now,” Raven says, because she’s feeling something far too close to butterflies in her stomach. And she _does not_ get butterflies. Especially for the pretty doctor that will cut her open in four days.

Abby looks down at the watch parts, and says, “I’m glad to hear it.”

“But I can’t fix how corny your husband is,” she teases, because it’s all she can think of and the engraved back is sitting face up on the table.

Abby’s face darkens, and she picks up the back, hollowed of its moving parts. She rubs her thumb over the engraving, and smiles a little. “It’s about the first time we met,” she murmurs, and she’s lost in thought. Her face is open again with the memory, and she seems lost for a moment before she looks back at Raven.

“What happened?” Raven wants to hear this, wants to see the smile growing on her lips blossom.

Abby hesitates for a moment, and then she sits down on the chair beside the bed on her side. She still has the watch in her hand, and she looks down at it. “We were both in college, and I went out dancing with my friend Cece, at this bar near campus. That didn’t card,” she adds with a twinkle in her eye, and Raven can picture it, can see her getting herself into trouble back before adulthood and a teenage daughter and long hours.

“And I was at a table and Jake, he came up to me and asked me for the time.” _J_ , Raven imagines the letter engraved at the end of the message. “The bar was loud and I could barely hear him, not to mention the fact that I wasn’t looking to be picked up, so I just kind of shook my head at him.

“The music quieted and I could finally hear that he was asking me what time it was,” she looks up at Raven and suddenly Abby’s young, so young, and god, she’s breathtaking like this.

“And you didn’t have a watch?” Raven guesses, and Abby nods. “That’s not quite as corny as I expected,” she concedes, and she kind of wishes she hadn’t asked. Because the more she talks to Abby the more she becomes _Abby_ and less Dr. Griffin, and it’s not like this is going to go anywhere, especially with Abby married and and Raven’s future so uncertain.

And it’s dumb, because she barely even knows this woman and their connection—if Abby even feels one, though Raven likes to think she does, too—is the product of boredom and solitude and appreciation, right?

But Abby stands, and sets the watch piece back down on the table. “No, it wasn’t,” Abby murmurs, and then looks back to Raven before setting her palm on the edge of the table, and flexing her hand. “I came by to check on you, since I’ll be gone tomorrow. Is everything pretty much the same? Are you feeling any new or sharper pains?”

“Same old,” Raven nods.

“Well, I know it’s not comfortable, but that is still good news. The spinal specialist that will be performing the surgery will be at the hospital tomorrow, so I’ll stop by with Dr. Kamdar to introduce you then.”

“I thought you were my surgeon,” she says, maybe teases a bit since it’s how she’d introduced herself to Finn.

“Alright, he’ll be _one of_ your surgeons,” her eyes narrow playfully as she smiles, and Raven can’t help but return it. “I’m a general orthopedic surgeon, so it’s best if we have Dr. Kamdar there to make sure the extraction is as smooth as possible.”

“Much better. I’m counting on you in there, you know.” Raven’s joking, trying to put herself back on solid ground with all of the confusing feelings she’s having, but Abby’s smile shifts from playful to something more reassuring. Something soft and familiar, and Raven can picture her that first night when she’d arrived, her hand on her hair and her voice low.

“I promise, Raven. I wouldn’t miss it. We’ll get you through the surgery and have you up walking again in no time.” And even if Abby can’t promise that she’ll get better—they both know it—it does a lot to soothe her.

 

 

**Tuesday.**

If she’d be able to retrieve it, Raven would throw her screwdriver across the room.

The gear wasn’t the issue. And she can’t fix the watch. It’s frustrating, and new, and she’s been working on the watch since Finn dropped off the gear before class and her fingers are numb from the rough edges of the metal gears and the tweezers.

She lets the watch sit there a while, stares at it like she can will it to just tell her what’s broken. But it doesn’t of course, and so she carefully folds the pieces up in a cloth and sticks it back in the nightstand where it can’t torment her so easily.

Raven picks up her phone and starts to go back through youtube videos, searching for one she hasn’t watched at this point and growing more and more irritated when she can’t seem to find one.

“Raven?” Abby’s voice pulls her attention and she shuts the screen of her phone off, not willing to let Abby see that she hasn’t found the answer yet. That she needs help. “This is Dr. Kamdar,” she says, and walks into the room followed by a younger man.

“Nice to meet you, Raven,” he says softly, and when he takes her hand he’s gentle, calm. He’s got an easy smile and an open face and Raven likes him, immediately. “My name is Jackson. I hear you had a pretty nasty fall.”

“Through an old vent system,” she nods, and Abby is looking at her gently from his side. “Dr. Griffin told me you’re a spinal specialist? So you’ve seen stuff like this before?”

“Absolutely,” he nods. “It’s not ideal, of course, but I’ve removed shrapnel and bullet fragments from much closer to the spinal cord. And Dr. Griffin’s told me that the metal hasn’t been moving since the first surgery, which is a good sign. Do you have any questions for me?”

She doesn’t, not at this point. She knows the basics, has asked Abby when she’s checked in on her, and now she’s just ready to get it over with. “Is it Friday, yet?”

Abby smirks and Jackson smiles a bit. “Not quite,” he answers. “But waiting is for the best right now. I know it’s hard, but try to be patient.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” she looks to Abby, and Abby rests her hand on Raven’s ankle and it warms through the blanket.

“I’ll be back to see you before the surgery on Friday morning,” Abby tells her, and squeezes her leg before she turns to lead Dr. Kamdar out.

 

 

**Wednesday.**

She’s given up on the watch. It’s put back together perfectly, each piece has been checked, and it still doesn’t work. So she’s just staring at it on her lap, in the dark. Because she’s given up. She’s a failure. And she’s been fighting tears for the past half hour.

She could _die_ on Friday. And it’s hitting her, hard. It’s dumb, but a part of her wanted to fix this watch, to be useful and leave something meaningful behind just in case.

It’s ten o’clock and she’s tired, so so tired, but when she closes her eyes all she can feel is the pain throbbing in her back, a little sharpness when she tries to shift too much.

The hospital has been fairly quiet for the past hour or so, so when Raven hears heels clicking on the linoleum outside of her room, she turns her head to see what the noise is.

And it’s Abby. She’s standing in the doorway like she did that first night, but this time she’s dressed up; she’s got a knee-length dress on, and in the shadow Raven can see the long lean lines of her calves, accented by the heels she wears. Her hair is down and curled loosely, and she holds a small clutch in her hand.

“You work some pretty terrible hours, Dr. Griffin,” Raven says softly, but Abby must hear because she crosses the doorway to take her usual spot beside Raven’s bed. “And the dress code here seems a bit extreme.”

“I gave a friend a ride over here, thought I’d come make sure you really want to go through with this tomorrow.” Abby sets her purse down in the chair and leans over, puts her hand on Raven’s mattress beside her head and looks at her closely. “If you don’t have the surgery, you could be fine for years,” she says, but it’s a little desperate. Her eyes are wide and so so dark, and Raven swallows hard at the sight. At the way Abby seems to care _so much._

“And I would live in constant fear that I would swing a hammer and not be able to walk away,” she argues, and it’s more aggressive than she means, but she’s barely holding it together right now as it is. She takes a deep breath and looks forward. “Thanks, but I’m sure.”

“I’m sick of losing people,” Abby whispers, and it’s so quiet Raven nearly misses it. But she doesn’t, and it breaks her heart, a little. It’s ridiculous—thinks Abby feels the same way judging by the embarrassed look on her face—that Abby would consider her someone she could lose after knowing her for barely a week. But she gets it, feels the same, feels the same dumb connection that she shouldn’t.

“Then don’t lose me,” is all she can say, all she can offer in way of acknowledgement that she feels it, too.

Abby’s eyes are darting between her own, looking desperately for something, and Raven can’t take it anymore. “I can’t fix your watch, Abby.”

Her face falls, and it’s instant. And crushing. And Raven thinks she would take another vent fall over the way Abby’s eyes start to glisten, at the way tears start to fall from her eyes and down her cheeks.

She looks away, presses the back of her hand to her mouth and closes her eyes. It’s that first vulnerable moment all over again, where Raven can’t watch something this personal, something this revealing, but she can’t look away. “I’m so sorry, Abby.” And she means it. It’s just a watch, but it seems to be one of those little things that breaks her, and so Raven stays quiet, waits for Abby to collect herself.

Once she settles a bit, she sits down in the chair, scooting her clutch to the side, and rests her elbows on her knees. “May I?” she holds out her hand and Raven passes the watch over, restored to perfection, save for the internal flaw she can’t identify.

“My husband passed away a little more than a year ago,” she says, and tests the weight of the item between her hands.

“Abby,” Raven murmurs, but doesn’t interrupt.

“He had a heart attack at home while I was here, working late, and our daughter found him.” Raven’s chest is pounding, she doesn’t want to hear this, to watch Abby’s haunted look as she recounts the moment. “She hasn’t forgiven me,” she murmurs, “so now I’ve lost both of them.”

“It’s not your fault, Abby,” Raven says, and reaches out to put her hand over Abby’s, to still them on the watch. She takes Raven’s fingers quickly, squeezes back and sets the watch down in her lap.

“Thank you,” she says, but they both know she doesn’t mean it. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have put all of that—”

“I’m glad you did.” Raven says it fast, before she can lose her nerve, and lets it hang between them for a moment before she asks, “The watch...why would you give me something so important to you? I was practically a stranger.” The use of past tense passes her lips on accident, but she finds that the sentiment rings true. They aren’t strangers, not any more. In fact they’re even edging closer to something like friendship.

Abby smirks, and it’s nice but her eyes are still red rimmed, her mascara is smudged a bit on her lash line. “You were rather persistent, if you remember.”

“I remember offering to help, out of the kindness of my heart.”

Abby licks her lips and stands up, holding the watch out a bit. “And guilting me into giving it to you, to save your sanity.” She rests her free hand beside Raven’s head again, and Raven looks up at her with her brows furrowed seriously.

“I wanted to fix it so badly, Abby. I’ve never been unable to repair something before. It’s my thing,” she tries to make it lighter, tries to remind Abby of the light conversation that day, before she knew.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and sets the watch down on the bedside table. “It’s just a watch, I suppose. It’s not,” she trails off and Raven knows what she means, knows _it’s not Jake_ , but it hurts just as much.

Raven doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know where they go from here, but then Abby adds, “I suppose you can’t fix everything.”

It’s heavy, carries so much meaning and it’s obvious the words are meant for Abby as much as they are for Raven. “You can’t,” she reiterates Abby’s words, and scoots over in her bed so Abby can sit down beside her.

Her back throbs from the motion but Abby looks at her, at the space, and she does take a seat. Her hip is pressing hot against Raven’s leg, and she’s angled awkwardly, but she doesn’t move, just sits there with Raven.

“It’s OK not to fix everything. It’s OK to let go.” Abby’s eyes start to water again and Raven’s said the wrong thing, she’s screwed up. But Abby laughs low, the sound hollow and wet but a little bit genuine.

“You sound like Callie,” she smiles. “She tried to get me to go out tonight, to put myself out there.”

Raven smiles at the thought, and suppresses the urge to touch Abby’s arm, her leg, her hand. “Where’d you go?”

“We were going dancing. But something came up with a patient, and she’s dealing with things now.”

“I’ll take you dancing,” and she means it, just a little. But her real goal is to make Abby smile again, wider, brighter, and when she does she feels like maybe she did do something useful after all.

“You’re barely allowed out of this bed, Raven,” she says through the smile, and her tears are drying. “Dancing is out of the question.”

“For now,” she says, a little cocky. “Once you fix me up I’ll be good as new, right? And I can take you dancing.”

This time she tips her head back to laugh, and she’s open. Almost a little happy, even, relaxed like Raven’s caught glimpses of over the past week. Raven feels something so so warm pulse in her chest at the thought that she caused it. She wants to do it again.

Playing along, Abby says,“I’m at least twice your age,” but her eyes are twinkling in the low light.

“ _Barely_ twice my age, probably. And so? You’re hot.” Abby’s eyes narrow playfully. “I’m hot.” She laughs again. “We’d have a great time.”

“Perhaps you were give a morphine IV after all,” she says, and stands up from her seat at Raven’s side to look at the machines and drip bags beside her.

The air settles as Abby pretends to look, and Raven reaches out, wraps her fingers around Abby’s wrist and tugs softly until Abby is looking down at her. “I’m serious, you know.”

And just like that all of those signs of gentle laughter and humor and happiness that were slowly emerging are gone from her face. “Raven,” she starts, and Raven drops her wrist.

“Sorry, that was inappropriate. I—forget it.” She looks straight ahead at the wall and shuts her eyes.

“I like you, Raven. A lot.” Abby sits down beside her hip again and Raven opens her eyes. “Too much, actually. And that’s the problem.”

Raven grits her teeth and braces herself; she has a feeling where this is going. And it hurts even worse. “After losing Jake, I just—I can’t go through it again, Raven. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

She shouldn’t push, doesn’t really want to, even, but Abby’s eyes are so deep, even darker in the low light, and she can’t help but ask, “Losing someone? Or opening yourself up to that possibility?”

Abby doesn’t answer, not right away, and Raven licks her lips, keeps herself still. She needs to know. “Both, I suppose.”

Nodding, Raven tries to turn her head away, but Abby reaches out, takes Raven’s wrist this time, before sliding her fingers down to tangle with hers, and presses her palm against Raven’s.

It’s a step. “So we wait until after the surgery, right? What’s another few days?” Abby’s brows furrow at Raven’s attitude, but she’s looking at Raven like she’s something special. “If I make it through unscathed, and with my nerves intact, you let me take you dancing.”

“Raven—”

“When you and Dr. Kamdar give me the all clear that I’m no longer a ticking time bomb, you let me taking you dancing.”

Abby’s brow furrows like she’s seriously contemplating it. “Alright,” she concedes slowly, and when her mouth twitches up Raven wants to kiss her. “After the surgery, we’ll _talk_ about it.”

Raven smirks because she can’t help it, and if it only grows wider when Abby strokes her fingers over Raven’s wrist, it’s not like she can control that, either.

“I’ll see you on Friday before you go to the OR,” she says, and stands up to retrieve her clutch.

“Good. Do you want,” Raven picks up the watch to hand back, but at the last minute tilts her wrist back toward her. “Actually, do you mind if I hang on to this for a bit longer? I might have one more idea.”

“I suppose another day or two can’t hurt,” she teases, but more seriously nods her head. “If you would like to.”

“I would,” Raven, confirms, and then Abby turns back toward the door and starts to head out.

“Good night, Raven,” she adds from the doorway, and she looks angelic with the light behind her like that. “Please get some rest,” and then she’s gone.

Raven doesn’t exactly know what’s left to try with the watch but she’s more determined than ever to fix it. So she pulls her tools out again, and flips on the bedside lamp.

 

 

**Thursday.**

At first she thinks she’s on fire. She wakes up and it hurts, hurts all over but it’s mostly her leg, her left side, her _left leg is on fire_.

She’s screaming, realizes she has been screaming since she woke up, and then there are nurses running in and alarms going off and _no one is setting out the fire_.

Tears are streaming out of the corners of her eyes, hot and sticky and they’re pooling in her ears, dripping down her neck and she hasn’t cried like this since she was eight or nine but she thinks it’s acceptable because she’s dying.

She has to be, that’s the only thing to explain what’s happening to her body.

The nurses are asking her questions rapidly, holding her down and checking her back and turning her and shouting and telling someone to call Abby, to _Call Dr. Griffin!_ and she just wants it to be over. Wants the pain to stop.

 

 

**Friday.**

Raven’s still. So still. She’s scared to move, scared to find out, and barely listening to Dr. Kamdar. She’d tried to wiggle her toes before he came in but honestly, she’s not ready to look. She wants—maybe even needs—Abby to be there for it.

“But overall, Raven, it looks like you’re going to be fine. There are no remaining fragments in your back.” He pulls out a small metal tool from his lab coat pocket, and flips the blanket up to bare her feet. “I’m going to test your reflexes to see if there was any nerve damage. Are you ready?”

“Uh,” she tries to prop herself up a bit and winces. “Shouldn’t Dr. Griffin be here?” Jackson looks at her slowly, and then says carefully, “No, this is a simple test.” And before she can ask again he runs the metal up her right foot, and it tickles. He tries again on the left foot and she’s not actually sure if she feels anything.

“Did you do it?” she asks, and Jackson moves to the side of the bed to be closer as he does it again.

“Can you feel that?” He asks, and she shakes her head. Wishes Abby was here. Or Finn. Maybe even Wick, because her stomach is dropping and she doesn’t like this, doesn’t like what’s happening.

“No,” she finally says, and there are tears pooling in her eyes.

“OK, let me see,” and he starts to brush it up her leg, to her knee, and then finally:

“There,” she says, just above her knee she can feel it, the cool metal. “What does that mean?”

Jackson sets the tool back in his pocket and covers her leg, and says, “Raven, it seems you have a bit of nerve damage to your left leg.”

Her heart is pounding. “Will it get better?” And it’s stupid, it’s not the big picture, but _she needs to take Abby dancing_.

“Raven,” he starts slowly and she knows the answer, knows what he is about to say and she shuts her eyes, leans her head back into the pillow until her back aches with the pressure.

“Can I talk to Dr. Griffin, please?” she asks when he’s done and she doesn’t mean to be rude, knows he’s doing his job but she can’t, she can’t talk about this with him, she wants to see Abby.

But he’s not moving to get her. Instead he comes to stand beside her bed where Abby does and his eyes are red as he says, “Raven, I’m sorry, but Dr. Griffin was in a car accident last night.”

“What?” That’s ridiculous, because last night was when they rushed her into the OR and they were calling Abby, they were calling her in for Raven. _Oh. Oh god._ “Is she alright?” And the answer is yes, it has to be yes. Because Abby has to be fine. She can't have been seriously hurt trying to come save Raven.

Dr. Kamdar shakes his head and his eyes are red, like he might cry.  _No. No, please, no._ "She didn't make it to the hospital."

She’s not sure if it’s the nerve damage or the blood rushing in her ears but she feels numb, totally, completely. Numb.

She barely knows Abby—barely _knew_ Abby—but they were something, they were becoming something and _she was going to take her dancing_. Abby would have let Raven, she knows she would have. Knows she cared, know she wanted to let herself care.

“I’m—” her words are choked and her face is pulled taut and she needs to be alone and so she asks him to leave, to give her a moment.

“Alright. I’ll be back shortly, Raven. I know it may not seem like it, but having some function in your leg is still encouraging,” he offers and it just makes her feel kind of sick.

Nothing about this is _encouraging_.

He leaves and the room is quiet, too too quiet. She can’t hear or feel anything right now, but she pulls at the nightstand drawer, takes out Abby’s watch and watches the renewed ticking of the hands moving far more steadily than her heart.

 


End file.
